I've always wondered how far a loved one could go to consciously or sub-consciously sabotage the only ones who love them. Surprisingly, quiet far.
Those who question my conduct, I'd like to ask, is there some special virtue in consistency? Well if there is, I can do without it.
Compassion barely matters, why should it anyway? Some misplaced sense of psycho-ness will always look at it some other way. As the leader of mindfuckers, you'd know the intention but yet again you oh so conveniently miss the point.
I agree with my fellow blogger. I don't get this need for intimacy; especially the physical one, especially when it’s The End? You'd think people who despise such intimacy would refrain from it.
Some things in life are too addictive, things one doesn't ever want to get rid off. One of them is a dirty needle.
OVOT
